


A woman in Love

by NoaLowe



Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Curse Breaking, Curses, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Not Beta Read, Smut, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Witch Curses, Woman!Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoaLowe/pseuds/NoaLowe
Summary: Geralt hated sorceresses. He hated them with all his heart. Mostly when they managed to curse him before dying.It was a simple job. It got it from the seneschal and it was well paid. A witch messed around in a small village outside Vizima and all he had to do was asking her to go away. No one expected from him to kill her. A. Fucking. Simple. Job.Fuck, the damn witch turned him into a woman.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817164
Comments: 9
Kudos: 126





	A woman in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Day 3: Cursed  
> I'm already sorry about the language. English is not my mother tongue, and it's not beta-read, so it might have mistakes.

Geralt hated sorceresses. He hated them with all his heart. Mostly when they managed to curse him before dying.

It was a simple job. It got it from the seneschal and it was well paid. A witch messed around in a small village outside Vizima and all he had to do was asking her to go away. No one expected from him to kill her. A. Fucking. Simple. Job.

But no! The witch had to make it difficult and forced him to fight. A messy fight, just like fight with witches must do, and when his sword had got through the sorceress' body, she had looked at him with so much hatred and had murmured right in his face:

"You'll know what’s mean being me."

He didn't know about her history and frankly, he didn't give a damn about it. But when a flash of white lightning blinded him after the death blow, he knew he'd be fuck up.

When he woke up, the first thing that he hit him was how tight was his damn breastplate, it was almost hard to breathe. He had no clue about the witch had done to him but this first sign wasn't a good one. He rubbed his face, trying to gather enough courage to see the damage. His own hands felt strange on his cheek and he opened his eyes. A low growl escaped his lips, a so much high sound than normal when he saw his now long and slender fingers, and he knew he was really in deep shit.

Fuck, the damn witch turned him into a woman.

The shock passed, the first thing he had to do was to loosen a bit his breastplate. The second was to make sure he still was a witcher. As soon the first thing was done, he tried to launch an Aard and he succeeded. Well, the whole thing wasn't as hopeless as he thought in the first place. He maybe was a woman for now, but still a witcher. It meant he could still do his job while looking for Yennefer. He wasn't happy with the idea, but she was the most powerful witch he knew. And frankly, he had neither the time nor the desire to wander across the Continent like this. He winced at the sole idea of meeting his brothers, or worse, Jaskier. If he met Lambert like this, he would never let him forget it.

Despite everything, he was lucky, Yennefer was in Vizima, with the Emperor of Nilfgaard. But like every fucking time, it was all he got from Gods.

"I'm so sorry, Geralt," she chuckled, "but I can't do anything for your problem. She cursed you with her last breath and even I can't undo what she has done."

Geralt felt his eyes burning. That was maybe the worst thing with this whole mess: he had no control over his emotions. They flooded through him like a damn wild river and he hadn't found out yet how to take control over it.

And Yennefer found this very amusing.

"I don't understand her curse," he said after rubbing his eyes in the sleeve of his tunic.

The sorceress shrugged.

"I have no idea. I think you should investigate further on her story. Maybe you'll find a way to lift the curse."

He grunted.

The woman version of Geralt was still Geralt.

"Well," mussed Yennefer, "if you don't have plans tonight, Emhyr gives a party. I can lend you a dress."

Shame nearly colored the witcher's cheeks. He grunted loudly before leaving, hearing the laugh of his friend on his way out.

Like usual, Geralt had burned the witch's house. So, he couldn't search in her stuff to find out what the curse was or its meaning. What was left to him was speaking to the villagers.

Geralt wasn't fond of it. Despite being the White Wolf, there were still peoples who hated witchers. Thanks to Jaskier and his songs, his life was much easier but, sometimes, even the bard's gentle words were not enough.

Before the contract, he didn't have to go to town. The alderman who gave him the job was in Vizima and the witch's house stood outside the village, in the wood. So, he had no idea how the inhabitants would react to him.

Strangely, hen he went to the tavern, the eyes which were looking at him hadn't been as hostile as expected. On the contrary. The patrons' eyes lingered on his female features and the coarse whispering he heard made him uncomfortable. Was that what the witch was meaning when she said: "what’s mean being me."?

Well, he didn't have to be a woman to feel different or to be treated differently. That why he never acted like a common asshole with women.

However, it felt very strange to be the target of those disrespectful comments. A mix of shame, hurt, and somewhat pride filled his chest and he was mortified by it.

Did he really look so good in this feminine shape?

It didn't matter anyway.

"I heard you had a witch problem," he told the innkeeper when he reached the counter.

The man looked at him with narrow eyes.

"Didn't know female witchers existed."

Geralt grunted.

"Yeah, they did. Now. The witch."

"Someone of your kind had taken care of her. You're too late," answered the man as he took a tankard and began to clean it.

"Don't care. Need to talk to the victims."

The man sighed.

"The blacksmith. Talk to him ... no, her. Maybe you can help her with the curse."

"Yeah, I'll try," Geralt murmured as he turned back and went out.

The village was a small one. It didn't take long for Geralt to find the forge. A woman was hitting an iron bar on an anvil in front of a small house at the end of the main road.

"Are you the blacksmith?" he asked, even if it was obvious.

The woman glared at him.

"Yeah, it's me. What do you want?"

The tone was aggressive and she smelled like distrust.

"I want to know about the curse," he said bluntly. "I have to find out how to lift it."

The woman stopped what she was doing and turned fully to him.

"Why? No one care about us."

There were more cursed persons. Geralt choose to be honest to gain her trust and collect as many as clues he could.

"Because I'm cursed too and I don't plan to live as a woman."

A sour smile stretched the blacksmith's lips.

"Good luck with that, my good  _ sir _ . Even the witch dead, the curse still remains."

"Yeah, I do know that. I killed that bitch. All I want to know is if you have an idea about the meaning of the curse. I can't understand it and without that, I can't lift it."

Sadness colored her features.

"It's about love. Arada, the witch, was a good one in the past. She helped with the births, with harvests, with the sick ones. And one day, she fell in love with– with the daughter of a local lord. They dated for a while and then, the girl broke her heart. We tried to cheer her up but Arada's mind was broken too. Every person who tried to help her has been cursed. "

Why this sort of thing did always happen to him?

"It's about true love?" he sighed, weary.

The woman nodded.

"The relationships between two persons of the same sex aren't well seen, so... She might have thought if we could experience her misery, maybe we could understand it. I'm very sorry, sir, I can't help you more than that. "

True love's curse?

What a joke for a witcher! How could he lift this damn curse without knowing what being in love felt like?

All he knew about love was his brief relationship with Yennefer and the sorceress had been very clear with what she had thought about it. No real love, only the djinn's magic.

He was so doom.

*

Although certain of the result, Geralt had talked to Yennefer and she agreed to try the "true love's kiss", without success. Even Triss had agreed to try too. And short of ideas, he had resumed his normal life. Well, as normal as possible while being a man in the body of a woman.

Two months later, he was drinking alone at the Inn at the Crossroads in Velen when Eskel came in.

"I'm looking for a young woman, with very light hair and a scar across her left cheek," he asked the woman behind the counter.

She looked at him suspiciously but eventually, she nodded toward the darkest corner of the inn.

A smile stretched the witcher's face and he lost it as soon he took a glimpse at the young woman the innkeeper had shown him.

"You're not Ciri," he said, disappointed.

"No, I'm not. Sorry to disappoint you, brother," smirked Geralt, aware that Eskel didn't recognize him yet.

"Bro–," began Eskel, confused before he connected the dots and it took him only two long strides to be at Geralt's table. "Geralt?"

"Himself."

"Fuck," growled the newcomer as he let himself fall on the bench beside his brother. "How?"

"A witch, two months ago. She cursed me and I couldn't find a way to lift it."

"Fuck," he growled again and he rose a hand to order an ale.

"Yeah, I know," Geralt sighed in his tankard.

They stayed silent for a while and it took four more ales to Eskel to encourage Geralt to speak about the curse. When he eventually told him it was a "true love's curse", Eskel laughed loudly.

Geralt felt a pang of pain in his chest at his brother's hilarity. He never thought he'd be a source of mockery for Eskel. Yennefer's behavior didn't surprise him, and that wouldn't surprise him from Lambert too. But Eskel? He hoped for more compassion from his brother.

"Sorry," Eskel managed to say as he tried to regain his breathing, "it's... why are you not in Novigrad yet?"

Geralt frowned even more.

"Why the fuck should I go in Novigrad?"

The amusement left Eskel's eyes and was replaced by astonishment.

"Why? He said. Maybe because the person who loves you the most in the Continent lives in Novigrad."

Sadness filled Geralt's chest. No one loved him enough to help him lift this kind of curse. Even Jaskier. The witcher wasn't as stupid as his brother clearly implied. He knew Jaskier had loved him, once, but now, he was living peacefully in Novigrad with the lovely bard Priscilla. He had no intention to risk his friend's happiness by coming in and asking for a kiss he'd known it wouldn't work anyway. Not anymore.

"Jaskier is happy with his girlfriend. I won't go and take the risk to destroy his happiness."

Eskel shook slightly his head but said no more. It would be useless anyway.

"So it looks like you're going to stay a woman. Maybe "Geralt" is not suitable anymore."

Geralt sighed loudly.

"I introduce myself as Visenna of Rivia," he admitted, a little ashamed to use his mother's name.

Eskel's eyes widened. He had hoped that his comment would trigger something which pushed him to go to Novigrad, but it was obvious that Geralt had given up on his masculinity.

"For what it's worth, I'm delighted to have a sister."

Geralt smiled at the comment but it wasn't enough to suppress the sadness that lingering in his chest.

*

It had been six months now that he wandered across the Continent as a woman and he was getting used to it. The first he had her period had been quite epic and he had to break some fingers to get rid of some bulky men but overall he was doing quite well. He was on his way to Kaer Morhen for the winter when Geralt heard about a monster near Novigrad.

It was too late to talk to the person who asked for a witcher, so he decided to take a room in the city and go seeing about the contract in the morning. Not wanting to spend money unnecessarily, he presented himself to the Chameleon, the cabaret which was run by Jaskier. It had been a while since he last saw his friend and he missed him.

It was Zoltan who welcomed him.

"My friend, I heard you had been cursed a while ago," he said when Geralt frowned, surprised that he had recognized him immediately.

It shouldn't have surprised the witcher. After all, Yennefer, Triss, and Eskel were aware of the curse.

"Is Jaskier around?" Geralt asked as soon as he had an ale in his hand.

"No my friend. Jaskier was requested at the Passiflora tonight to play for a wedding or something like that. But Pris' is here if you want."

Geralt crushed the sudden wave of jealousy he felt hearing the name of Jaskier's beloved. She was a delightful woman and his deviant feelings for the bard shouldn't cloud his judgment.

"How is she? The last time I saw her she was in bad shape."

"She is fine now and she'll be very pleased to see you. She should be in her room. Come with me."

Despite his want to stay at the bar, Geralt followed the dwarf up to the first floor. Something felt wrong. Jaskier's room was at the second floor if he remembered right.

Zoltan knocked at the last door.

"Pris'! Geralt's here!"

They heard a yelp and the noise of a fall before the door opened abruptly.

"Oh! What a charming surprise!" she exclaimed. "I'm so..." she stopped her attempt to hug him, visibly taken aback. "Ah yes, I remember," she babbled, pointing the new pair of breasts that now adorned Geralt's chest. "I'm so happy!" she still finished as she hugged him tightly.

"Come on in," she said last before pulling him in her room and close the door to the dwarf's nose. "Jaskier will be so pleased to see you."

Then, she stood in front of him, looked at him from top to bottom, and sighed deeply. "I'm so jealous. You were so handsome as a man and now, you're one of the most beautiful women had ever seen. At last, it won't be hard to get you dressed."

She turned around him, eyeing him carefully, caressing her own chin thoughtfully. Geralt had no idea what she was doing.

"Well, Shya's clothes should be fit. Stay here!"

"Wait!" The witcher yelped, but the bard didn't listen to him as she ran out of the room.

So he did what he was told and stayed in the room. Alone, he took his time and looked around him. It was indeed a woman's room. It looked like at Yennefer's one, with all the kind of stuff a woman could need: perfume, makeup, dresses... It didn't fit with the idea that Jaskier and Priscilla were together. There was something Geralt didn't understand.

And then he saw the outfit on the bed. An elegant one, a bardling thing like Jaskier was fond of.

The door opened again and Priscilla went in with another woman, probably Shya. She was sensibly the same height as him and with the same broad shoulders and narrow hips.

"You're right, we can find something in my wardrobe for her. What colors would like the boss?"

Geralt tried to talk but Priscilla didn't let him the time to open his mouth.

"Hm, with her white hair and golden eyes? I think she would be stunning in black and silver. Don't you think?"

"I have something like this. Wait. I come back."

The other woman went out and Geralt managed to talk a word.

"Clothes? To do what?" he growled, annoyed by the women's behavior.

Priscilla frowned.

"Bah, you come with me to the Passiflora, don't you? So, you have to dress and, considering what Jaskier may have said about you, you surely don't have an elegant dress to come with me to the party."

Geralt felt suddenly very hot.

Wear a dress?

Him?

Not even in dreams!

"No, Priscilla, I won't wear a dress."

"But you're a woman now," she whined, "and a so beautiful one! You have to show off your femininity! Do you know oh hot is your scar, here?" she asked, pointing her one left cheek.

He narrowed his eyes. All the bards he knew were insane!

"Obviously not. Come here," she said, patting the back of the chair that was in front of the dressing table.

"Pris'," he tried, hopelessly.

"Now."

He sighed loudly and did what he was told. He sat in front of the mirror and winced at his reflection.

"I had met Ciri, your daughter," she said when he had sat, "I know it's not yours by blood, but now? No one could tell you're not... well her mother. You are as beautiful as Ciri. Don't you find Ciri beautiful? "

"Of course, Ciri was beautiful, but... I'm not a woman Priscilla. I may look like a woman but I'm not one."

She shook her head.

"For now, you are a woman and you have to dress like one, at last for tonight."

"But why?" he insisted, so confused. "For all I know, women have the right to dress as they want!"

Priscilla's eyes widened.

"To surprise Jaskier. Of course," she dropped as if it was obvious.

Something passed in the young woman's eyes as he looked at her as if a second head was growing next to the first, and when the door opened, she dismissed Shya with a gesture.

"Geralt ... Why are you here?" she asked seriously, putting her hands on his shoulders.

The witcher sighed again.

"I have a contract here. I just wanted a peaceful night before handling it."

The woman wrinkled her lips.

"Aren't you here to lift the curse?"

"No!" he yelped. "I wouldn't– "

And Geralt remembered who he was talking to. Seriously, everyone thinking so little of him, it hurt. First his own brother, and now his friend's girlfriend thought he'd have no remorse breaking her's and Jaskier's hearts.

"Why?" she asked, confused. "I don't understand. It's obvious that Jaskier and you love each other for such a long time, it is even incomprehensible that you aren't yet together. Wait, no, being the same sex and all, I understand it might bother you, but you're a woman now... So, what is holding you back? "

To say that Geralt was shocked was an understatement. His eyes widened and his jaw went suddenly slack.

"What?" he suddenly whimpered, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "You're not together anymore?"

Priscilla frowned and laughed so hard she ended crying.

"Oh, Melitele help me! We weren't together at all. We would kill each other within a month! Oh Geralt, really? You thought Jaskier and I were in love?"

His face went blank and he averted her look.

"You're so chivalrous," she muttered as her hands slipped around his neck. "I understand why Jaskier's so in love with you."

She kissed his cheek and chuckled when he blushed.

"So... Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, can we make ourselves pretty for our favorite bard?"

He nodded, didn't trust his own voice to answer.

"Wonderful! I'll promise you, you'll be marvelous tonight!" she exclaimed before ran out of the room to find her friend again.

Gerald wasn't sure it was a good idea, but he wondered how Jaskier would react seeing him dressed like a woman. Not just being one, but primped like a woman. And deep inside he hoped that the bard would like it and find him pretty.

*

Like was an understatement. When he and Priscilla showed up, Jaskier missed a note and his wide eyes fooled no one.

Priscilla was so proud of herself! Geralt was the most beautiful woman at the party tonight. His waist was tightened in a black and silver corset, highlighting his breast, and the black skirt, open at the front, revealed his long, perfect legs.

"I think you have a catch," she breathed to her, eyeing the stage.

His long hair was braided in a crown on the top of his head and hairpins representing buttercups were stung into the braids. His golden eyes were underlined with a line of black kohl and his pale lips had the color of the roses. Every woman in the room eyed him with jealousy.

Geralt couldn't help himself but smile at the bewilderment on Jaskier's face. It was hard to not let the hope rising in his chest as the bard's eyes never left him as he wandered inside the crowd, waltzing between people, gracefully avoiding wandering hands and conversation's attempts. He wasn't here to socialize but to have a bit fun.

Priscilla was right. He was a woman now and he had to learn to behave as such in civilized places. Inside the cities, he had to behave like every woman warrior he knew. He had to drop the armor and let the new soft side of him being free. As a man, he never felt the need to let himself having fun in such places, but now, he enjoyed the music, the fine fabric on his skin, the delicate perfume on his neck, and the looks that lingering on his slender silhouette.

It was so amusing to see those noble men eyeing him like a fine piece of silk while they ignored who he was actually. No one flinched at the sight of his cat-like eyes or at his scars. It was somewhat pleasant to not be feared.

At one point in the evening, Priscilla took the place of Jaskier on stage without him noticing it and he almost jumped when he found himself face to face with the bard.

Shorter than his usual self, he had to look up to look at his friend. This new configuration left him with a strange impression. For the first since he'd been cursed, Geralt felt vulnerable. Under the scrutiny of Jaskier's blue eyes, the witcher really felt like a woman. All he wanted to do was slip into the bard's strong arms and feel protected from the world.

Fuck, he even blushed when the bard took his hand and bowed above, laying a brief kiss on his skin.

"You are ... stunning," Jaskier breathed when he straightened up.

The low voice of the bard made him shiver and his belly warmed. He didn't even find the courage to step aside when Jaskier slipped his hand in the crook of his elbow and led him towards the bar.

"Yennefer warned me about the curse, but, my dear, what a sight you are," he murmured at his ear. "You're absolutely marvelous in that dress. Even she would be jealous!"

The ghost of Jaskier's breath on his skin awakened a fierce want in Geralt's lower abdomen. An unusual feeling warmed his cunt and he found it hard to restrain himself from squeezing his legs.

Fuck, he wanted him! And he couldn't find the strength to crush it. It didn't matter if his kiss couldn't lift the curse. It didn't matter if Jaskier didn't love him enough, Geralt wanted to know what it felt like to have the bard between his thighs, what it felt like to be the one who caught his eyes. He wanted to know how all his former lovers had felt in his arms.

"You have to tell me everything!" The bard exclaimed as soon as they reached the counter.

"There is not much to tell. I fought a witch and she cursed me before she died," he answered when he was seated on one of the stools.

Geralt hated how his voice seemed to be higher than usual but the way Jaskier's pupils blown up, he didn't mind. What a nice feeling knowing he could wreck him up with his voice only.

"Hmm ...," he tried again, "she was a good lass once. But after a heartbreak, she went insane and cursed everyone who tried to help her."

He talked as much as he could, basking in the lust's scent that emanated from the bard. He never flirted. Never had to, but what a powerful feeling to be able to induce such a strong response from the man he loved.

Fuck, he shouldn't think about it, not when Jaskier was looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. He knew it had everything to do with his new body and if he let his hopes rise he knew he would only hurt himself.

He was talking about a monster he encountered in Velen when a strangle yelp escaped him at the sudden feeling of a hand on his thigh. A mere second later, he was stuck in Jaskier's arms, his head under his chin, as the bard growled loudly at the man who owned the wandering hand.

"Hands off before I cut it off!"

The other man laughed.

"And what? She's yours maybe?"

Geralt frowned.

"Yes, she is. So back off before I beat you so hard your own mother won't recognize you anymore," Jaskier growled louder, his body still, as if he is seriously considering fighting over his virtue.

Geralt's eyes widened hearing the fierce and possessive threat. He couldn't fight the smile that stretched his lips neither the warmth in his chest.

The man behind him retreated and Jaskier suddenly tensed up.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he breathed in his hair. "I shouldn't have said..."

His words caught in his throat as Geralt lift his hands and caught Jaskier's doublet, preventing him from moving back.

"Geralt?"

There was a plea in the way he whispered his name.

Geralt didn't want to look. He didn't want to see if his fantasies were really or not. He wanted to bask in Jaskier's warmth a little more. Without realizing what he was doing, he nuzzled Jaskier's neck, letting his scent wash over him, like a warm blanket. And he moaned faintly when a hand grabbed his neck and the arm around his waist tightened.

"Come, my dear, no one will bother us in the room I have upstairs."

Without waiting for his answer, Jaskier led him to his room, a hand put lightly on his small back. Geralt didn't try to catch his eyes, he didn't really want to know what was going on in Jaskier's head.

He opened the door, let Geralt going inside first and a soon he closed it behind him, he was apologizing again.

"I'm so sorry Geralt, I know I shouldn't have said that, but this kind of man always..."

"Don't. It was kind of... nice," he breathed, showing his back to the bard, not sure how he would react to his words.

Fuck it was always so hard to talk about what he felt and being a woman didn't change that. He could feel more freely, almost more wildly, but he continued to have a problem voicing them.

The bard took a harsh breath and tension rose up in the room. Then he heard steps and a moment later, Jaskier was just behind him, his hot breath landing on his nape.

"What was nice?" he whispered against his skin. "The gallantry or the possessiveness?"

Geralt felt warm again. Feeling the heat of Jaskier's body through the fabric of his dress made him shiver and he longed to take a step back, to feel it against him again.

"Both?" he managed to rap, his throat closed by all the feelings raging in his chest.

His heart was beating fast, so much faster than normal, his skin felt too hot, and strange dizziness took him when soft lips brushed his neck.

"Please tell this is what you want," Jaskier begged to his ear.

Not trusting his voice, Geralt nodded.

A second later, Jaskier's hands were on him and forced him to turn around.

"I need your words Geralt. I can't... Not without it."

The seriousness in the blue eyes took him aback. It was just lust, right? Why being so serious about it?

However, Geralt gathered his courage and said it aloud.

"Yes, I want you."

The bright smile which broke Jaskier's face made Geralt's heart fluttered and his inside boiled.

Jaskier's hand cupped his cheeks and caressed it slowly. Geralt's eyes fluttered under the touch.

"You're so pretty with your cheeks all red," Jaskier whispered as he leaned towards his mouth.

Fear suddenly contracted Geralt's stomach. He didn't want to know that his kiss wouldn't break the curse. Not immediately. He wanted to spend the night in Jaskier's arms before his illusions were shattered. He then put a hand on the bard's lips, preventing him from kissing him.

Jaskier frowned, confused, then shocked, before understanding what was going on. Geralt trembled under the fond look the bard gave him.

He kissed the fingers on his lips before taking them away.

"What are you fearing?" he murmured. "My feelings or yours?"

Geralt closed his eyes, ashamed.

A kiss landed on his forehead.

"Geralt... I'm in love with you than that day in Posada." He kissed his cheekbone. "You are my true love, dear, don't question it." He kissed his nose. "I'm fairly confident that my kiss will lift the curse now I know you love me back." He kissed the corner of his mouth. "But the question is: do you want me to lift the curse?"

Geralt couldn't think anymore. He had never imagined that Jaskier could love him too. All he wanted was a night together before he returned to the Path. Now the possibilities made him dizzy. Could he really get his body back? The idea should delight him, however...

"No, not right now," he heard himself answer before he even finished thinking about the question.

A sensual smile stretched the bard's lips.

"It's okay with me. I'm rather curious to know what you look like under this dress," he smiled as he picked one of the hairpins he had in his hair. “Let me?”

Geralt would let him do everything he wanted at this point. He nodded, hoping the bard didn't want more words from him other than moans and unintelligible noises. His mind was too busy trying to grasp the news of his shared feelings. He had known Jaskier had feelings for him, but it never occurred to Geralt that they must have been as deep as his own.

The fingers on his head sent shivers in his spine and he moaned faintly as the feeling. He always enjoyed Jaskier's fingers in his hair. The way he took care of it, back in their days on the road, had always amazed him, even if he had found it out unnerving in the beginnings.

It took no time before the braids fell on his shoulders.

Jaskier gasped.

"What a shame I couldn't thank the witch anymore," he breathed, undoing the long braids. "Such beautiful locks, flowing like silk around your charming face."

His hair wasn't much longer than his masculine ones, but it was thicker and waved freely on his shoulders. Geralt found it annoying. It always got in his eyes and he had often thought to cut it short. He was glad he didn't do it.

Jaskier's hands abandoned his hair, caressing slowly his neck. A shuddered breath escaped Geralt's throat and he let his head fell on the bard's shoulder. The way he felt now was so troubling. His body throbbed in echo with the blood which ran faster in his veins, his sex was moistening slowly under the waves of pleasure born from Jaskier's caresses on his skin and he felt so hot, it made him dizzy.

“Are you okay, love?” The bard whispered, touching the column of his throat with his fingertips.

A whine vibrated in his chest and his hands, along his body so far, suddenly clung to the bard's doublet. He wanted his skin against his, now, before he lost his mind. It almost pained him how much he wanted the bard between his thighs.

"I'm not a young girl," he muttered. "Fuck me, now."

Jaskier chuckled.

"You're right. But can you blame me wanting to take my time for our first time?"

A wild fire roared in the witcher's belly. With a sudden gesture, he spread the collar of the doublet and bit the skin within reach. The groan he tore from the bard made him smile.

"I don't want you to take your time," he said, licking the mark on the golden skin. "I want you to take me apart."

He felt Jaskier's grin into his hair.

"Your words are my command," he murmured, and the moment after, Geralt yelped when his feet left the ground and he found himself in Jaskier's arms. Eyes wide open, he watched the bard's face. His big blue eyes were almost black with desire and his lips were pursed. He ran his thumb over their pulp, sighing when a tip of his tongue came to lick it.

"I really want to kiss you, you have no idea," the bard whispered, his eyes fixed on the painted lips of the young woman in his arms.

"Yes, me too, but not now. Now, if you don't take me to bed soon, I'll go get someone else to do it."

"Don't even think about it," Jaskier growled, possessive, joining the bed in two long strides and laid his precious love down under Geralt’s melodious laugh.

To the witcher's surprise, Jaskier fell silent as he straightened up and undressed entirely. But his gaze, heavy with desire, was sufficiently eloquent. Geralt squirmed in anticipation under the silent promises of pleasures to come and gasped when his gaze fell on the fat, hard cock between the bard's legs. A low moan left his lips. He hadn't let anyone touch him since he was cursed and his cock pulsate painfully at the mere idea of that cock inside him.

To the witcher's surprise, Jaskier fell silent as he straightened up and undressed entirely. But his gaze, heavy with desire, was sufficiently eloquent. Geralt squirmed in anticipation under the silent promises of pleasures to come and gasped when his gaze fell on the hard, fat cock between the bard's legs. A low moan left his lips. He hadn't let anyone touch him since he was cursed and his cunt pulsed painfully at the mere idea of that cock inside him.

"See what you do to me?" he smirked. "I could just come looking at you like that, offered to my gaze."

"Don't even dare," Geralt groaned back. "Come here instead of making me languish."

"Anything you want, my love."

As soon as Jaskier was again on the bed, he began to undo the fasteners of the corset with ease. The next moment, the witcher's breasts were finally free from all hindrances and Jaskier's hands were on them, pressing them gently.

Geralt mewed in pleasure and he wetted his underwear a little more.

"What a delicious noise," Jaskier whispered against his skin before his mouth closed on a nipple.

The unprecedented pleasure stunned the witcher and he got lost in it. If he hadn't let anyone touch him, he hadn't been shy about exploring his new body, but the pleasure that Jaskier gave him was far beyond what he had experienced playing with himself. He moaned without restraint, drunk with pleasure and he tensed suddenly when he came.

Eyes wide and breathing difficult, Geralt was just lying there, looking at the ceiling, surprised by the strength of this first orgasm.

"Fuck," he managed to say when he caught his breath.

"Hmm," Jaskier cooed, kneeling between his thighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Geralt glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. When had he lost his skirt and underwear?

"Do you know what's wonderful about a woman's body?" Jaskier asked when he noticed the witcher's gaze on him.

"No. What?"

The bard's smile widened.

"That he can come several times in a row."

A languid smile appeared on the witcher's face.

"And what are you waiting for then?" he asked, spreading his thighs a little more in a silent invitation.

"You will be the death of me," growled Jaskier, the blue of his eyes reduced to a single line around his pupils.

He grabbed his thighs and pulled until his cunt was again at his mouth. Geralt stifled a cry of surprise that turned into a mew of pleasure when Jaskier's tongue invaded him. His body arched under the waves of pleasure and his hands clenched on the sheets, his hips trapped by the bard's grip.

It didn't take long for him to feel the tightness of the orgasm in his lower abdomen again. The bard was really gifted with his tongue!

"Please," he begged, not quite knowing what he was begging for.

The sound of his moans increased suddenly when a finger joined the tongue and everything stopped, leaving him gasping.

"What ... what is it?" he hissed, annoyed by the behavior of his lover.

The bard's silence forced Geralt to open his eyes and look at him.

"What?" he asked more sharply than he would have liked, while Jaskier looked at him, eyes wide.

"You're a virgin," he breathed as if he didn't believe it.

Geralt's cheeks burned, and he looked away.

"And what? Is that a problem?" he groaned, embarrassed.

Jaskier swallowed loudly.

"No, not at all. Just give me two seconds." He took two deep breaths. "Tomorrow I could die happy," he whispered before resting Geralt's hips on the bed.

"Love?" he called to him as he crawled over his body, to face him. "Have you ever deflower a woman?"

Geralt frowned.

"No why?"

Jaskier sighed and put a tender hand on his cheek.

"The first time is painful for a woman. Do you want me to continue?"

Geralt gave him an annoyed look.

"More painful than the bite of a werewolf?"

Jaskier let out a chuckle.

"Of course not."

"You forget what I am, Bard," he huffed.

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted. "Just tell me if it's too painful, okay?"

Geralt nodded then gasped when he felt Jaskier's cock against his.

"Relax," he murmured as he took one of his hands in his.

And then, without taking his eyes off him, he penetrated it slowly.

A sharp pain took his breath away, but when Jaskier's hips were against his, pleasure had overwhelmed it, leaving Geralt groaning in pleasure.

"Are you okay?" Jaskier muttered against his neck.

"Yeah, please, move."

They spent the night in a lascivious fog where Geralt quickly lost count of the number of times he came.

In the morning, he still refused to let Jaskier kiss him. The female pleasure was very different from the male pleasure and he wanted to enjoy it a little more. And Jaskier didn't complain.

*

It took five days for Geralt to accept the kiss. After finishing the contract which led him to Novigrad in the first place and a lovely evening in his lover's arms, he was dozing on Jaskier's laps, naked and happily exhausted, in a front of the fireplace in the bard's room, when a disturbing thought crossed his mind.

"What will you do if I choose to stay a woman?" he asked before he could hold back his words.

Jaskier didn't answer immediately. His fingers didn't stop caressing his neck and, at Geralt's surprise, his heart nor his breath didn't speed up.

"I'm in love with you, Geralt, whether you are a man or a woman doesn't change anything. However, I'd be frustrated if I could never kiss you."

"Hmm."

What a kiss when you could be married and never be looking at like you were a monster. The love between two people of the same sex wasn't strictly forbidden, but he knew that this kind of couple was ostracized. He didn't want that for Jaskier.

"I hear you thinking. I'm a bard, Geralt. People expect this kind of eccentricity from me. No one will be shocked if I'm in a relationship with a man. Of course, it'll be easier for both of us if you stay as a woman, but I don't care. Your body, your choice. "

Being honest, Geralt liked to be a woman. The way the people reacted to him was so much better than with his masculine counterpart. He felt faster and meaner when he was fighting and the sex was great, but it was not who he was. After six months in this body, he still didn't feel like a woman. His skin still felt too tight, his body felt too light, he felt too small. In the best of cases, he would prefer to be able to transform himself into a woman only when he was with Jaskier. Being a woman in his arms was the best thing that ever happened to him. He felt loved, protected, wanted.

But he had made his choice. He preferred to become a man again. After all, people already hated him in general and it wasn't going to shock them that a witcher had a relationship with a man. It wasn't going to change his life. So he straightened up and took the bard's face between his hands.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, close enough to feel Jaskier's breath on his lips.

"Yes, I'm."

Geralt took a deep breath and filled the space between them. Nothing happens at the moment if we didn't count the thrill of pleasure that ran through the skin of the witcher when their lips finally touched.

And then, the curse suddenly no longer counted. They kissed and grabbing at each other as if tomorrow would never come and the moment their tongues finally found, a bright white light blinded them. Geralt's body trembled violently, then everything returned to normal.

The witcher hesitated to open his eyes. Although the kiss lifted the curse—the white lightning was a good clue—a small part of his mind assured him that Jaskier would like less now that he was a man again.

The bard gasped and Geralt opened his eyes.

"What?"

The high-pitched sound of his voice shocked him and a bad feeling drop on his stomach. He got up quickly and ran almost to the bard's full-length mirror.

"You have to be kidding me," he sighed, looking at the female body in the mirror.

*

_ Little epilogue _

Jaskier walked quickly to his room, Yennefer on his heels. He entered and was immediately assaulted by his lover.

"I told you I wasn't sick!" yelled Geralt, who was walking back and forth across the room.

Yennefer sneered.

"Well, I thought you had lifted the curse."

The witcher growled, showing his fangs.

"We kissed and then it had been a white light and nothing changed," supplied Jaskier.

"Ah."

Yennefer tried very hard not to laugh, but seeing Geralt walked up and down, close to the crisis of hysteria and Jaskier who didn't dare to approach, it was priceless.

"Besides, he's been sick for a few days. He vomits regularly and..."

"That's enough!" interrupted the witcher, his face tense with fury.

The witch sighed.

"You, on the bed," she ordered her former lover. "Jaskier, outside. I'm going to check him out."

"Yen," Jaskier complained, but under the deadpan purple gaze, he turned around and left, leaving the two women together.

They exchanged a long look, then Geralt capitulated. He lay down on the bed, annoyed.

"It's not useful," he tried, but the witch silenced him with the wave of a hand.

"I would be the sole judge."

The witcher sighed heavily but said nothing more when the witch placed a hand on his chest and a wave of magic passed through his body. She stayed focused for a moment, her eyes closed, then, after a while, she laughed.

"What?" Geralt groaned, more and more annoyed by the situation.

"Well, good news, you're no longer cursed."

Geralt's eyes narrowed.

"Hm."

Yennefer wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks.

"Geralt...," she tried to say without laughing, "Did you think about taking a contraceptive potion?"

For a moment the witcher didn't understand what she was talking about. Then the pieces fell into place and he turned pale.

"Congratulations, my friend, you're pregnant."

  
  



End file.
